


Boredom

by idolhands



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, Voyeurism, blowjob, but only slightly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idolhands/pseuds/idolhands
Summary: George is bored and can't concentrate on his work so Tankard offers a helping hand





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, just a short fic because I noticed that my other fic (It's over before it begins) is the only Tankard fic out there and he needs more love.   
> Also there's no George/Tankard work on AO3 and I just had to write something to fill the gap.   
> Finally, a big thank you to @expo63 on Tumblr for noticing my first tankard fic and motivating me to write this one. You brightened my day in what's been a very stressful few weeks.

“I’m bored,” George declared, casting his quill down onto the parchment and pushing his chair slightly away from his desk. Tankard didn’t even look up, he was prone to George’s flippant attitude to his paperwork and his frequent breaks, “Oh, come on, Tankard, stop me being bored.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” He looked up, expecting to see George as he normally was, eyes shut, running hands through his hair in despair – the drama queen. Instead, he was faced by _the look_ ; eyes wide open with the eyelashes fluttering slightly, lips slightly apart.

“Something?” George simpered back.

Tankard knew he should role his eyes and tell George to turn back to his work, lest they get nothing done. Instead, he responded with a look of his own, the look only George got to see – a wolfish grin and gleaming eyes as she pushed his own chair back and strode over to his friend with quick, powerful strides. Just as fluidly, he slid one leg over George’s thigh and sat, straddling his lap, pulling him in for a deep kiss, tongues fighting each other until they descended into a lazy dance.

“I have an idea,” George whispered, pulling away eventually. In response to Tankard’s quirked eyebrow, he simply grasped the man’s shoulders, pushing them down. Tankard, seeing where this was going, allowed himself to be pushed underneath the desk, hidden from sight, between George’s spread thighs.

“What if someone walks in?” he pointed out, voice slightly muffled by the wool of George’s breeches.

“They’ll think you’re Elizabeth.” George shot back, flippant as always.

“And what if Elizabeth walks in?”

“She’ll assume I’m using my hands.”

“Both of your hands are on the desk.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to drop one,” George replied, his voice honeyed and low as he slid a hand down his thigh to curl in his lover’s hair, “Oh, please, Tankard, I promise I’ll get some work done if you do.”

“We could get caught.”

“It’s never stopped you before,” George pointed out remembering a memorable afternoon a few days before involving the stables at an inappropriately busy time.

Tankard had to concede his point, “The things I do for the Warleggan Bank,” he sighed, hiding his grin as best he could, fingers working quickly to undo the buttons on George’s breeches whilst the other man slid his chair closer to the desk again.

At first, it was easy for George to get back to work writing down simple names and sums as Tankard’s fine hands whispered light touches down his shaft followed up by quick, careful licks – more life brief flashes of tongue- designed to interest or tease but not to make any significant effort.

Then Tankard decided to go a bit further, his mouth enclosing the tip of George’s cock in a tight wet heat. George’s hand shook slightly but he gained control over it and carried on writing, trying not to give away the quickening of his breath.

Ah, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Tankard though, a wicked grin glimmering across his lips. Suddenly, he swallowed, pulling George’s member right to the back of his throat as the banker sighed and then groaned above him, loud, as he began to move his lips, caressing his shaft with each slide up and then down, swallowing once he could feel the tip at the very back of his throat.

George could feel the sweat springing up on his brow as his hand shook. He tried to keep his moans to a decent volume, he knew that the door to the study wasn’t locked but somehow this didn’t bother him. If anything, the imminent danger of a servant – or his wife- walking in on them during such an intimate act only seemed to heighten the atmosphere. He finally managed to get himself under control...

Then Tankard started humming. The vibrations travelled up and along his shaft with increasing pressure until a loud moan erupted from his throat so loudly that he was convinced someone was going to come running, “You know, it’s very hard to work with you doing tha-ahh-at” George gasped.

“I could stop if you want,” Tankard freed his mouth and looked up from between George’s thighs, eyelashes fluttering.

“Don’t you dare,” George growled, pushing him back down and finally abandoning his work so that he could grip both hands in his lover’s hair pulling him back onto his cock and finally allowing his hips to jerk into the tight heat, “Ahhh, you’re so, oh my God, skill...oh!” he couldn’t have held back his moans if he’d wanted to, his head thrown back in ecstasy. He could feel that all of heat in his stomach growing a clenching, filling his stomach until, “Oh, I’m going to...” Tankard made no attempt to withdraw as, with one final juddering flick of his hips, George spilled into his waiting mouth.

For a few moments, George could only slump back into his chair, breathing heaving until, finally he managed to push his chair back just enough for Tankard to climb out from under the desk and lean in for one last kiss, the taste of semen mingling with the taste of the wine George had drunk at dinner.

“Now get some work done,” Tankard, finished, retreating to his desk on the other side of the room, picking up his quill and carrying on working, diligently as always as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

“Tease,” George muttered.

“Lightweight,” Tankard shot back, both of them descending into giggles.

In the end it was that which led to Elizabeth walking in to see if all was well. After receiving no answer, she just walked out, shaking her head, as George and Tankard tried not to fall out of their chairs onto the floor, the knees of Tankard's breeches had suffered enough already.


End file.
